Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: FILE 1. Guest
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As twilight fell, the sharp scent of lespedeza blossoms lured me out without a second thought. Fox rain drizzled that day.
Following the bouncing will-o'-the-wisp, now ahead, now behind, it was only when I suddenly turned around that I realized the path had vanished.
Can you understand that moment when I was left all alone?
There were days when I believed they beckoned to me from within the light.
I never imagined I'd end up like a moth engulfed in flames.
I hold no grudge. I was a mayfly, living just a single year. Even I'd have found it laughable.
Yet when the season of my birth had come full circle, and I faced a second winter, I refused to quietly slip away beneath the dusk.
Because even in dreams, the flower scent I'd long forgotten lingered, heavy and vivid.
It's all in the past now. Even the dreams have faded to oblivion and departed.
Woncheon City was a satellite town an hour or two from Seoul, bordering Incheon and Bucheon. Folks living near the city limits often didn't even think of it as a separate district.
Surprisingly, it had plenty of entertainment options—bars, clubs, and the like—which drew people from neighboring areas. It was a solid choice for those who wanted a proper night out but found trekking all the way to Seoul too much hassle.
A tributary from the Han River wound through the city center, named Woncheon River after the town itself.
Otherwise, it was just your average sleepy suburb.
There was one peculiar legend passed down, though. Five hundred years ago, during the Joseon Dynasty, a king fleeing danger couldn't cross the river and was in a bind. That's when a woman emerged from the waters.
She offered to let him cross if he gave her three days' grace. But the king, pressed for time, berated her and insisted on crossing immediately. She shot him a glare, then vanished. A bridge appeared out of nowhere where none had been.
Once the king had crossed, he looked back to see the bridge he'd walked on was actually made of chained corpses. A chilling end to the tale.
Of course, these days it was just some old story on a signboard by the octagonal pavilion along the riverbank. No one paid it any mind.
Least of all the Friday night crowd knocking back drinks in packed bars.
Well, maybe one person did.
"Hey, boss. What's with the crowd tonight?"
The wooden-paneled izakaya gave off a cozy vibe. It specialized in sake, but the cooler was stocked with plenty of Western liquors too, a bit off-theme.
"It's always like this. You've been moping around in those drab clothes every day, scaring folks off before they even sit down."
The young owner, prepping snacks from the back, bantered with a man at the counter bar stool. From their easy chatter, the guy was clearly a regular—and a close one at that.
"Nah, my good vibes are what's packing the place tonight. Don't be jealous."
With that, the man lifted his glass to his lips.
The owner's teasing was clearly off-base. The man's presence wasn't hurting business, that much was sure. He looked to be in his late twenties, strikingly handsome.
His refined features had a dignified air, and though he was slender enough to wonder if he could handle real muscle, he was tall. As the owner had jabbed, his top and bottoms were both black. Not pitch from head to toe, but mostly.
His wide-legged pants draped loosely to his ankles. The flowing shirt was baggy too. At a glance, he resembled a grim reaper in his hanbok robe.
"Well, I'm calling it."
The man drained his glass, pushed his half-eaten snacks toward the kitchen, and stood.
"Already? It's barely evening."
"Nah, no seats left anyway. Oh, tab me, boss. Left my wallet at home."
"What is this, the old days? Pay up!"
"Don't do online banking."
The owner sighed, like what a guy.
"Watch yourself on the streets at night. Heard there's been some shady stuff around lately."
"Shady stuff, huh."
The man murmured the words as he stepped out. A few disappearances in the area, if memory served.
Outside, the omen was plain as day.
He'd gone in before sunset, so even after a few drinks, night hadn't fully fallen. A few steps in, he spotted crows perched on rooftops against the backdrop of a pale moon.
Hands in his pockets, the man approached the crows.
"Dusk falls early, yet winter solstice is far off. What dissatisfaction brings you to torment this humble town?"
"......"
"Begone now, and I'll let you go peacefully. This street has my favorite bar—I can't just stand by."
"......"
The crows only cocked their heads unnervingly, no reply. As one rotated its head full circle like an owl, clacking its beak, the man sighed.
"If that's how it is, what choice do I have?"
His hand emerged from his pocket clutching a glossy folding fan. With a deft flick, he snapped it open wide. The crows finally cawed in alarm.
"Even mortal sins are hard to bear in this world. Return whence you came."
The crows spread their wings and lunged. As they closed in on his face, he swung the fan in a wide arc.
A damp, eerie gust howled from the alley's end, scattering them.
Tossed by the wind, the crows fragmented like puzzles, dissolving into black dust that scattered away.
"One down."
Muttering with a hint of pride, the man pocketed the fan and vanished into the dark streets.
The alley was lined with knitting shops and dingy clothing stores, a bit off the beaten path. Deeper in stood a quaint, old-fashioned teahouse with a sign reading 'Flower Mugwort'.
Lights were on, but curtains drawn made it look closed. A 'Closed' sign hung on the door, but the man opened it anyway.
It wasn't locked. The bell tinkled, drawing the gaze of the woman inside toward him. He gave a casual greeting.
"Hey, Aerin."
Aerin, the teahouse owner, had her long hair partially pinned up in a bun. She wore a stylish modified hanbok dress.
She sat primly at a table, practicing calligraphy. A guest spot, but business hours were over.
She turned as he entered.
"Earlier than I expected."
"Needed a recharge."
He pulled out the fan again. It clapped against his other palm, then he tossed it lightly.
Aerin caught it smoothly and spread it wide. She studied the ink painting inside for a long moment before looking up.
"Nati."
"Yeah?"
"You used up all the north wind ink again? That's hard to come by."
"Needed every drop. You think I'd waste it on a hobby?"
Nati, apparently his name, shrugged it off and stepped further in. Aerin folded the fan away and picked up her brush again.
"Time to restock anyway. I'll swing by that pawnshop in Seoul tomorrow."
"You always say it like you're going shopping."
She shrugged.
"Not wrong. Better stock than most museums. Cheap abandoned goods—who's gonna complain?"
Nati didn't argue, quietly opening the fridge for a cola.
"Anyone else around?"
"Mina's right in front of you."
"Huh?"
A small hand popped up over the partition divider.
"I'm right here."
Nati cracked open his cola and walked over.
Mina looked no older than twenty, a petite girl in a black sailor uniform with a red tie, cute as a doll. She sat at a guest table, lost in thought.
Nati eyed her silently, taking a sip. Then,
"What're you up to?"
Tea set laid out on the table, her staring intently. She replied curtly.
"Tea ceremony."
She propped her chin on her fingers, pondering, then delicately adjusted the teapot's angle.
Aerin had set down her brush and approached. Leaning over from behind, hands on the table like an embrace, she scanned the set.
"She suddenly wanted to learn tea tasting. Figured basics from scratch would be best, so we've been taking it slow."
"Mina doing tea ceremony? Hope she doesn't chew the teapot."
"I don't eat teapots. I'll be careful. Don't say dumb stuff!"
Mina bristled. Aerin smiled softly, ruffling her hair.
"There, there. Our Mina doesn't eat teapots. Ignore the grumpy old man."
"Harsh words."
"She put it back just like I taught. Now, follow my lead. Watch how I pour."
Aerin sat opposite and demonstrated perfectly.
Mina watched intently, then reached for the teapot Aerin had set down. But it slipped right through her grasp.
"Ah."
A sigh escaped her. Her hand was wet; a round puddle stained the table. Tea dripped from her fingers, rippling the pool.
Beside it lay the teapot spout, body gone, like it'd been bitten off by huge teeth.
"Ate it."
"Told you so."
Nati chuckled from the sidelines. Mina glared, pouty; Aerin soothed her.
"It's fine, it's fine. Mistakes happen. Here, drink mine, and we'll try again later."
She slid her cup to Mina. Nati asked,
"Haewon's around?"
"In the storeroom, sorting stuff. Can't have junk eating each other like last time."
"Storeroom? Guy's got guts. After last time's tongue incident, thought he'd swear it off."
"Treated him and wiped the memory. Forgot?"
"Did we?"
Nati shrugged it off and headed behind the counter.
"Gonna check?"
"Can't risk another mess."
Leaving the women, he flung open the cabinet behind the counter. Stairs led down to the basement.
Ignoring Mina dumping tea on her own head, Nati squeezed through the narrow passage and descended.